Two Weeks Ago
by Darkest-Doctor
Summary: Shrapnel was always a little neurotic, but something about Thundercracker seems to have shot him through a roof. Shattered Glass G1, dedicated to my girlfriend, mostly flufftastic.


Highly cracktastic, written for my girlfriend **goddamnitriot** as a Valentine's present. We play Thundercracker and Shrapnel in a Shattered Glass RP and since both can get pretty socially-defunct, I figured, what the hey, might as well try and write a fluff fic with them. Ignore the fact that we privately ship them, yes.

My portrayal of Shrapnel, considering lack of canon fact about him, is based _entirely_ off of the RP. You don't have to like it, and if you do, feel free to ask about it.

Summary: Shrapnel was always a little neurotic, but something about Thundercracker seems to have shot him through a roof.  
><span>Rating<span>: T for Crasher Being a Manly Woman  
><span>Pairings<span>: Thundercracker/Shrapnel  
><span>Universe<span>: Shattered Glass G!  
><span>Disclaimer<span>: Oh god, could you imagine if I was actually in charge of Transformers? The fandom would be so fucked...

**Two Weeks Ago**

"Hey, Thundercracker *zzk!* Thundercracker?"

The colorful jet spun on his heel strut, grinning down at the Insecticon approaching behind him.

"Hey Shrap! 'Sup?" The smaller mech seemed nervous, lacing and unlacing his fingers together as his alt mode's horns sparked slightly.

"Ah…er…I wanted to *zrr* to…" His visor, previously flickering in his duress, offlined entirely, the bugmech shaking a little as he tried to speak. "Uh…I…n-nothing *bzzk!* nothing! Forget I said anything *kzzk!* anything!"

Without any further clarification, the Insecticon tore off back the way he came, discharging small bursts of electricity as he went. The jet rebooted his optics, confused.

"Uh…" Before he could get anymore out, the nervous mech was gone, the low thrum of his defensive mod already well beyond audio range. Figuring that Shrapnel would come and find him later if it was really important, Thundercracker shrugged and continued on his way.

As it turned out, Shrapnel did _not_ find him later that day, nor did he approach him at all in the next two weeks, a fact that irked the jet to no end. He could see the smaller mech all over the base, in the rec room, the mess hall, wandering through the halls. However, every time he was in the company of his fellow Insecticons, almost paranoid to be alone as he chatted with the others in hurried tones too low to overhear.

Even more frustrating, every time that Shrapnel looked up and found Thundercracker's distinctive paintjob in his optical range, he would yelp, accidentally shock his brothers in the process, and try to hide wherever he was located, if not immediately fleeing the scene entirely. Thundercracker was starting to wonder if he had done something to offend the little guy. He was half-ready to confront the neurotic Insecticon on his own, but every time he made a move to, Shrapnel would stammer out a wild apology and excuse himself. On more than one occasion, the smaller mech had outright _fled_, rather than give Thundercracker a chance to speak.

The strange behavior was worrying. He was starting to wonder if Shrapnel had gotten into some kind of trouble or was being threatened by someone. It was when Shrapnel had run away from him in the most literal sense for the third time in a cycle that he had given up and consulted Dirge for his opinion.

"I just don't get it, mech…" Dirge was, as always, smiling as his friend started confiding his troubles. "I can't get him to stay still long enough to tell me what's up, let alone say 'hi' to him! I'm getting worried."

"I'm sure Shrapnel is quite fine, old boy," Dirge replied cheerfully, pointedly ignoring the sarcastic "you _would_" from the other jet. "He's probably overworrying over some trifle or another. You know how he gets. Give the mech some time and I'm _certain _he'll come around, right as rain."

"Whatcha two talkin' about now?" Crasher made her entrance obvious, leaning heavily over Thundercracker's wings to invade the conversation. "Who's coming around?"

"Shrapnel," Dirge supplied, tone amused as he watched Thundercracker jostle their commander off of his back. The femme took a seat at the table, optics flashing slightly.

"Why, what's up with Shrapnel?" she asked, already lounging as Thundercracker dropped his helm against the table.

"Shrap's avoiding me and he won't tell me why," came the jet's muffled reply. Crasher rebooted her optics once before she started laughing, servo slamming onto the table.

"Oh _pits_, TC, you've gotta be kidding me!" Thundercracker had barely lifted his helm off the table before Crasher's jocular pat on the back sent it slamming back into it.

"What!" the jet snapped, rubbing his forehelm once he managed to get back up, Dirge wisely shifting his energon cube off of the table as Crasher continued her humored assault.

"You don't _know_?" she cackled. "TC, the mech's got the hots for a prince in rainbow armor!" That gave Thundercracker pause, the jet staring at his commander in confusion.

"What…?"

"_You_, bolts for brains!" The femme managed to pull herself back together, the grin under her battlemask evident despite the cover. "Y'know! He wants to frag you, get under your plating, do romantic things with you, nurse you back to health…" She paused, considering something. "Well _frag_, that's a cute image there. You with me here, TC?"

As it so happened, Thundercracker was _not_ with her. Nor was he at the table anymore. The femme managed to catch a blur of color slamming the door to the mess behind it as it departed and she grinned, turning to regard Dirge.

"You weren't going to tell him, were you, Sunshine?" she remarked, settling back into her mirth as the Conehead took a delicate sip of his cube.

"I honestly thought the old chap knew."

It wasn't too hard to locate the neurotic Insecticon; all one had to do was listen for the tell-tale hum of his electrical mod and one could find him from almost anywhere in the base. Considering how his vocals pitched when he was stressed—and how else would the situation even be _defined_ beyond "stressful"—it took Thundercracker all of ten seconds to locate the mech a mere two corridors over from him. As expected, the mech was in the presence of his brothers, speaking at a pace that would have had _Blurr's _helm spinning.

"—_andhe'lljusthatemeifItellhim*zzkr!*himandI'dratherhavehimnotknow*zzr!*knowthanhatemeandIcan'tjustgiveittohim*kzzT!*himhe'llhatemethentooandIcan'thavehimhateme*KZZ*meit'lljustgetallawkward*bzzT!*awkwardandIwanthimtojust_—"

Kickback had already noticed Thundercracker's approach and, bless his ember, he hadn't even twitched until the jet was right behind the stammering Insecticon.

"Hey, Shrapnel?"

As predicted, Shrapnel ended up punctuating the query with a shriek, followed by a not-so-subtle leap directly into Bombshell's personal space.

"Th-Th-Thundercracker *bZZT!* Thundercracker!" Shrapnel backed up into Bombshell's chassis, fingers wringing nervously as he resisted the urge to discharge his shock. "H-Hello, I'm afraid I can't t-talk *kzzt!* talk, I have to go and—"

"Oh, _no you don't_," Bombshell declared, taking his brother by the shoulders and shoving him indelicately towards the jet. "You go and _tell him _this very instant! Face your fears, Shrapnel, it's the only way you'll get over this!" Without any further discussion, the psychiatrist had vanished from the hallway with Kickback in tow, leaving Shrapnel to pull up mere inches from Thundercracker's plating.

"So, uh…" Thundercracker rebooted his optics carefully as Shrapnel pulled back a few steps, clicking miserably. "You had something to say to me?"

"M-More like give *zzrr* give…" Shrapnel murmured, keeping his visor trained on the ground as he started to rummage around in his subspace. The jet was kept in suspense for only a moment longer as the Insecticon finally withdrew a jumble of glass and metal and thrust it at the other mech.

"H-Here *zzrk* here…" Shrapnel said, vocals dropping to a whisper. Thundercracker accepted the object, turning it over in his servos as the Insecticon continued his wordless self-deprecation. It took Thundercracker a moment to realize what he was looking at. It was messy, to be sure, and it looked like something an emberling would make in class, but it was clearly a simplistic rendition of an ember. Seeing the confusion on the jet's faceplates, Shrapnel finally piped up.

"It was supposed to be f-for Valentine's Day *zzkr* Day," the Insecticon said, visor flickering in embarrassment.

"…Shrapnel, Valentine's Day was like two weeks ago." As the Insecticon stammered out his apologies and excuses over the lateness, the full implication of the situation hit Thundercracker. Shrapnel had made him an ember and had planned on gifting him with it on Valentine's Day. The human's designated day for love and junk. The day most couples would get together and share gifts with him.

_Shrapnel had given him an ember._

_Shrapnel __**liked**__ him._

"—b-but clearly you don't like it *zzkrt!* it, so I should just go and never mention this again *zzkrt!* again—"Shrapnel had already started edging down the hallway, taking Thundercracker's silence as a rejection and looking none too happy about it.

"Wait, Shrap, hold up," the jet said, reaching out to catch Shrapnel by his arm before the mech could run away again. There was a small burst of electricity, mostly out of shock, that numbed his servo as the Insecticon froze, visor pinned on the appendage halting him.

"You don't need to run off, mech," Thundercracker reassured the other mech, squeezing lightly as the Insecticon started to twitch slightly. "I can't talk to you if you keep dodging me."

"S-Sorry *zzkr* sorry." The jet smiled, releasing the other mech when he seemed least likely to flee again, reaching over to pet his helm. The bug mech instantly relaxed, eagerly leaning into the touch.

"Now, is this—"he held the mock-ember in front of Shrapnel's line of vision curiously"—what I think it is?"

"…yes *zrrr* yes…"

"And it means what I think it means?"

"….yes *zzkt* yes." Thundercracker couldn't quite keep the perk from his wings as he dragged Shrapnel into a tentative hug, ignoring the sudden thrum of electricity arcing across the smaller mech's horns.

"I find you pretty cool too, Shrap." Shrapnel's visor brightened considerably, the smaller mech's faceplates trying to locate a proper emotion to respond with.

"Y-You do *zzkt* do?"

"Yeah, but you've got me at a disadvantage here," the colorful jet said, grinning at the small ember he was holding. "You made me this cute thing and all I've got is this."

"Oh, it's really no trouble *kzzt!* troub—"

Whatever reassurance Shrapnel was about to offer was cut off by Thundercracker pressing his lip components to the other's. It wasn't perfect; fireworks didn't go off, unless you counted Shrapnel's defensive mod discharging slightly as he was caught by surprise. It was pleasant and relatively mess-free though, and Shrapnel's visor had a dreamy flicker to it when Thundercracker pulled away.

"….I think that's quite adequate *zzkr* adequate, thank you *zzkrr* you."


End file.
